


Of Ice And Gunpowder

by Merixcil



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Older Man/Younger Man, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Imbalance, Spanking, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-13
Updated: 2016-10-13
Packaged: 2018-08-22 07:19:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8277469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Benjamin is caught out, Washington is not amused





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gratuitous spanking fic. It was written and edited late at night so there's a high chance of it not being all that good but it was something I needed to get out of my system. 
> 
> Please check the tags before reading on. The 'mildly dubious consent' tag is being used because this fic features a character enjoying themself, but in a position where it would be difficult for them to say no if they were not.

Baths were an unseen luxury for the continental army, in a very literal sense. Any officer wishing to indulge in the warm water and scentless soaps offered by the houses that played host to them had to do so out of the eyes of the General. If one wasn’t an officer, the idea of being warm was a far flung fantasy. Rank and file soldiers could not hope for anything more extravagant than a fire to sit at as they dried off from dips in some frigid river.

Washington must have known that there were those on his staff who ordered hot water drawn without his permission. They wore their stature with pride after all. Noses upturned at the King’s meagre offer of citizenship, and with pride in one’s station comes a pride in one’s presentation. Even on the eve of battle, it was a rare sight to see an officer looking unkempt. They had all seen their fair share of icy rivers, but it would be foolish not to make use of the more pleasant amenities on offer.

Benjamin squinted into the night, through a window of the abandoned farm house Washington had taken as his headquarters. The light from the fire made it hard to see much, save the flash of dirty white when a man walked past the building. He hoped a white horse might be visible from a greater distance, but he could not be sure. Still, his eyes strained for some sign of the returning General and he rushed to think of excuses that might stall the great man’s rage.

Realistically the worst Benjamin could expect would be to be ejected from his bath and the farm house without first having time to don his clothes. Following that, a week in which Washington greeted him with a cold shoulder. It wasn’t so terrible as all that, especially for an officer who did not have a high enough rank to warrant a bed in the house in the first place. All the same, he had experienced the General’s wrath and disappointment in the past. The sting in his gut when those dark eyes hardened over him was unpleasant to say the least. He only wanted to be good to his commander.

“Your bath is ready, Major Tallmadge,” said the private who he had enlisted to draw several kettles of warm water. Benjamin glanced over his shoulder to see a full tub steaming in front of the fireplace, then dismissed the man.

Undressing efficiently and neatly was an essential skill for any soldier living out of a tent at this time of year. Even when the snow lay thick on the ground, there would be times when the stench of their uniforms became too great to bear. To undress before a roaring fire was as nothing compared to the discomfort of such winter days. Unable as he was to tear his eyes away from the window, Benjamin still felt uneasy as he untied his queue, shed his shirt and removed his breeches.

He caught a trace of his reflection in the dirty glass. Pale skin, hair crimped from sitting in a plait for so long. He looked a far cry from the Major Benjamin Tallmadge that stormed into battle with his sabre held high as his dignity. It would not do for one of the soldiers passing in the night to look in and see him like this. Benjamin allowed himself a final glance out into the night, before hanging his jacket over the empty curtain rail.

How silent was the farm house, how delightfully warm! The fire alone raised the room to a healthy temperature, but the added steam from the bath had Benjamin’s skin turning pink. He had always blushed easily. Caleb would embarrass him with overblown tales of his battlefield successes just to see him turn scarlet. Pinching his cheeks and chiding him: “No need for Majors to be so cute, Tall Boy.”

The bath itself was warmer still, scalding against Benjamin’s heat starved feet. It took a five minutes for him to submerge himself entirely, the water creeping across his skin and leaving him even pinker than before. To eliminate the cold completely was such a rare and welcome sensation, and one that Benjamin could not remember when he had last felt. His eyes closed in satisfaction as he finally came to rest on the bottom of the tub and his exhausted limbs took on a measure of weightlessness.

Muscles, too long placed under the stress of constant motion and long rides, began to unwind at a delightful pace. The heat fell over Benjamin like a blanket, and he let his head loll back over the edge of the tub. His earlier anxiety at Washington’s return seemed distant, the pressures of his rank an afterthought. It was an easy thing to let go of the stress that kept him wired and alert, drifting into a heat induced doze that became sleep. 

 

 

When Benjamin awoke the water was tepid and the fire had burned down to embers. He groaned, annoyed at having woken, and from such a lovely dream as well. There has been bare flesh and keen lips. An unknown body pressing against his own, insistent and inviting.

“I trust there is a good reason you have commandeered my study at such a later hour,” a steely voice rang across the room. Benjamin’s head whipped round towards the door, but even in the low light he could see no one standing there. His jacket was still hung over the window and the rest of his clothes still lay folded on the floor.

He twisted round, trying to look behind him for the intruder. “Stay.” The voice commanded.

Benjamin knew that voice. With sickening dread he let himself fall back into the water, “yes General Washington.”

The flickering light running up the walls insicated the General had a candle lit at his desk. In what light it afforded him Benjamin saw with dismay that the after effects of his dream were still upon him. His cock hung gleefully half hard between his legs, as if it had already decided to make mischief on his behalf. He closed his eyes tight and tried to think of disturbing images to sooth his arousal, but the General was already upon him.

“Explain yourself, Major.”

“I…General…I only…” Benjamin struggled to recall the excuses he had crafted earlier that evening, but they were lost to him. Casting his mind back, all he could remember was the blush of his skin in the heat.

He was aware that the General must know who he was, for he had addressed him by the correct rank. For a moment this stirred pride in Benjamin’s chest. He quickly brushed the though aside as he tried to think of anything he could say that might salvage this situation.

The sound of Washington’s sigh fell heavy on the room. Benjamin could picture his face. The downturned corners of his mouth and the tension in his shoulders as the great man wrestled with his rage and his need to appear calm at all times. It was a losing battle as far as Benjamin was concerned, he would either be ejected from this room on a wave of the General’s anger, or would be swept aside.

“Major, I have been sat here some half an hour while you slumber, and I am informed that it has been a great deal longer since you first entered this house. Such impudence requires an explanation.”

“I wished for a bath, sir. I had Private Rudman draw me one.” There seemed no point in lying, not when he had already been such a bother to the General. Shame flooded him, to think of Washington finding him languishing in his study as if he had any right to be there. The merit of his rank did not allow him such finery and he was sure to be punished for it.

Then he thought of Washington going about his business for a full half hour while Benjamin lay naked before him. Perhaps he had intended to let him be, till the next morning if necessary. Watching over him, not nuisance enough to remove or fine enough to make show of. A nude, insubordinate burden. Benjamin’s cock twitched – the traitor.

There came a soft click as Washington set down his pen upon his deck. Benjamin could hear the scrape of the chair legs across the floor as the General sat back. He could see it all in his mind’s eye, the carefully categorised mannerisms, innocuous and individual. The ability to hone in on details like that was what made Benjamin such a good head of intelligence. He could hardly be blamed if he was unable to turn off the instinct.

Washington gave a grunt of displeasure. “You think it is acceptable conduct for an officer to avail himself of his commander’s office of an evening?”

“No, sir.”

“You think it is acceptable conduct for an officer to appear before his commander, out of uniform and at leisure while the army toils on?”

“No, sir.”

“You think it is acceptable conduct for an officer to lounge around in warm baths while his men suffer the cold?”

“No, sir.”

“Well then Major Tallmadge, you are either a liar or a most wretched hypocrite.”

The disappointment in Washington’s voice was so distressing that for a moment Benjamin feared he might cry. That would be the final humiliation he could suffer before the Earth must open up and swallow him. A blush swept over him, heating his skin so that the water felt cold and unpleasant. His deepest wish was to be flung from the room so he could return to his tent and let his shame fester in private.

But the General had bade him stay, and he was powerless to refuse. He could only wait until he was commanded otherwise.

“Stand.” There remained an icy bite to Washington’s voice that only compounded Benjamin’s shame. He had seen the full force of the General’s anger a handful of times and each time it had started like this. Deathly cold, then hot enough to blister skin.

Benjamin moved quickly to stand, the weight of Washington’s eyes on his bare back. He was not sure if he should turn, surely it would be inappropriate to demonstrate his nudity to the General, no matter what the command.

Then again, the General had sat by, unbothered Benjamin’s nakedness for a good while. There would be nothing left for him to see. The feel of Washington’s eyes on him mingled with his shame at having been so caught out and resolved as a pool of heat settling low in his stomach. With a gasp of shock, Benjamin looked down to see his cock jump once again. He could not present himself to Washington like this.

Washington granted him no mercy, “face me, Major.”

Hands clasped over his cock and stones, Benjamin turned. The room was still warm from the fire, but a shiver overcame him nonetheless and his teeth clenched tight. He kept his gaze low, for it seemed that to look upon Washington would be to submit to the flames and be devoured. His eyes flicked across the desk and saw the missive that the General had been writing, laid down next to the glove from his right hand.

He knew that Washington was watching him, unblinking. The General was not a man to feign nonchalance in the hope of making his prey uneasy. To have that much attention lavished upon his naked body, no matter the cause, grew the heat in Benjamin’s belly. The effort of holding down his cock was beginning to become painful. The sooner he could receive his punishment and leave, the better.

“You are standing before your General, Major Tallmage. Stand as a soldier, at attention.”

Heavens, was there no end to this torture? Oh how he dreamed of being cast out into the night like a misbehaving dog, “Sir, I-“

“I am not interested in your excuses.”

If he did not cry before this night was through, Benjamin would consider it a miracle. Even as he raised his head, damp hair sticking to his face and obscuring his full vision of Washington, it was an effort to breathe steady. The thick swamp of shame and arousal swimming in his blood was ready to boil over as he let go of his aching cock and let his hands fall to his sides.

Washington met his gaze, unblinking and hard. Those dark eyes burned like the embers of the dying fire. There was so much power in this man. More than what was granted to him by congress, he was a being of innate authority. To think there lived a man who would be able to do other than General George Washington commanded was absurd. Whatever he desired, Benjamin would do. If he must stand before his men in the morning, in all his naked shame, so be it.

He blushed deep at the thought of shaming himself on the General’s orders. What a pathetically miserable response. He was not fit to stand in this man’s presence.

“Sir,” Benjamin began, “General Washington, I am sorry for my insolence and for the inconvenience I have caused you this evening. I will gladly accept whatever punishment you presume fit.” His voice wavered, just a little, and the threat of tears stung at the corners of his eyes

Washington’s mouth curled, his dissatisfaction evident. Stupid, for Benjamin to think it was his place to speak. Of course he would accept the punishment offered, there would be no other option.

The water that still clung to his skin formed rivulets, collecting in the indents of Benjamin’s body then spilling over. It tickled him so, there was an itch at the back of his knee that he would sorely like to scratch. If Washington’s punishment was to watch him wrestle with the urge to do so, it would be cruel enough.

Washington pushed his chair further from his desk, like he intended to get up to leave, “I see no point in a pubic shaming. I doubt it will teach you any kind of lesson. Come here.” And he pointed to the floor between himself and the desk.

Like the dog that he was, Benjamin stepped out of the bath and over to Washington’s desk, leaving a trail of wet footprints across the floor.

Benjamin stood before the General, shaking. His cock, unphased by his circumstances stretched out towards Washington. As if it might find release at the great man’s pleasure. The thought alone, however humiliating, was enough to have Benjamin flushing red once again. His knees felt infirm and he knew for sure that his eyes were shining with tears but he could not stop himself. He could not calm the heat in his belly and he could not run, and the idea that Washington must have found his state repulsive did nothing to ease the sting.

Washington remained firm. He must have been able to see Benjamin’s erection but he did not deem to dignify it with an answer. “Face the other wall. Place your hands on my desk and bend over.”

To Benjamin, this appeared to be as unpleasant for Washington as it was degrading for him, but he did not question. There was not so much space between the chair and the desk. When he had assumed the position, the backs of his calves pressed against the front of Washington’s. The dampness on his skin soaking into the wool of the General’s breeches. Another strike against him, another sin for which he must atone.

From behind him there came the shuffle of rearranged clothing, then he felt the ghost of Washington’s breath on the bare skin of his backside. In an instant, the heat in his belly swelled to fill his whole body and his cock sprung to full hardness. Benjamin could not help the noise that escaped his lips, small and desperate. This was a cruel punishment, and yet it did not feel much like punishment at all.

All the warning he got was the faint brush of fingertips on his skin, scouts mapping a path for the company to take. Then there was a moment of nothing, before Washington’s right hand came down hard on his backside. There was a great crack, as skin met skin, followed by the swarming seeds of pain that were quickly drowned out and consumed by Benjamin’s arousal. He felt tears spring from his eyes to join the rivers of water already scattering themselves across his body.

“Stay quiet,” Washington hissed, “stay still.”

The second time the hand came down to spank him, Benjamin bit his tongue to stop himself crying out. But he still pitched forward. The strike was not designed to be forceful, it was designed to hurt. It was the shock more than anything, combined with the shaking of his limbs, which sent Benjamin lurching forward.

Washington wrapped his left hand around Benjamin’s thigh to steady him. The leather of the glove was cool and harsh and wonderful, and the next time he was spanked, Benjamin managed to hold firm.

And a fourth time. And a fifth. Each strike felt stronger, as it lay upon the embers of the last. Each strike filled Benjamin with a little more shame, and a little more pleasure. There were twin tear tracks running down his face, meeting at the tip of his chin and dripping onto the General’s desk. His tongue would be bleeding by the tenth strike, or perhaps it already was. All he could say for sure was that the knowledge this should be terrible was distant and muddied. Despite the tears and the pain and every hateful emotion brewing inside of him, he did not want this to stop.

The sixth strike was harder by far than all that came before it, and Benjamin could not bite his tongue hard enough to suppress his shout. The tightening of Washington’s hand over his thigh signaled the General’s displeasure. “Quiet!”

Even the best behaved of hounds will howl if they are beaten too hard. Benjamin could not hold his tongue on the next strike either, earning him a growl of dissatisfaction from Washington. Even that stirred him, pushing a low moan from his lips as his cock pleaded to be touched.

Washington grabbed the discarded glove from the desk. He balled it up and reached forward, so that the buttons on his uniform press into the skin of Benjamin’s backside. He slipped the thumb of his right hand into Benjamin’s mouth to hook it open before shoving the glove between his teeth to muffle his cries.

The spanking continued. Each strike like lit gunpowder under Benjamin’s skin. Hammering towards a promised explosion that he feared would never come. His cries bled into moans which bled into sobs, till he didn’t know which aspect of him most wanted to be heard. He could still feel Washington’s breath dancing over his raw, beaten skin. Mocking him, inspecting for damages.

His cock would have had him wail till it was seen to, but Benjamin listened to Washington before he listened to his cock. After the twenty fifth strike, the General let go of his thigh, and he fell chest first across the desk. It would be so easy, to shift himself forward and rut against the polished wood. It would be unpleasant, perhaps he would get splinters, but it would be friction.

“Stay.” Washington breathed. Benjamin sobbed with frustration, he did not even notice that the fire had left the General’s voice.

Through the confused fog still clouding his brain, it took Benjamin a moment to realise the hand pushing his legs apart was the same one that had been striking him a moment earlier. He shifted his stance, vaguely wondering if Washington intended to continue with his punishment.

Then he felt the rough warmth of the General’s skin on his stones as he reached forward to wrap thick fingers around his cock. Benjamin whimpered into the glove still in his mouth as with a scant few strokes he was brought off against the desk. He closed his eyes tight, and let the blast of his orgasm consume him, till he was a spent, quivering mess.

How long he lay on the desk he could not say. Washington granted him the mercy of a moment of respite, that much was certain. But it may as well have been a minute as an hour. Benjamin’s pulse struggled to return to an even pace, and as he fell away from his climax his buttocks began to ache. 

“I think you have learned your lesson.” Washington said, reaching forward to remove the glove from Benjamin’s mouth.

Benjamin was not so sure. He felt humiliated and beaten, but he was also sated. It was not a punishment that he felt would leave him chastened and unhurried to be caught misbehaving again. “Thank you, sir,” he replied, his voice shaking as his lungs struggled to gather enough air.

With trembling arms, Benjamin pushed himself into a standing position. He looked down and saw his seed splattered against the wood of the desk and the floor, shining obscenly in the half light of the candle. He would have to offer to clean it, with his uniform most likely. He would bear the stains until a camp follower took pity on him and volunteered to wash them off.

Before he could open his mouth to offer his services, Washington produced a handkerchief from his pocket and did the job himself. It was so beneath the General that Benjamin felt a fresh wave of tears prickling behind his eyes, whether out of shame or gratitude he could not say.

Leaning back in his chair, Washington surveyed Benjamin with none of the ice that had crackled in his stare earlier. The weight of his penetrating gaze was no lighter, however, and to be caught in it was to be trapped.

Benjamin was still a dog, still waiting for his master’s orders.

Washington nodded his head, a sharp jerk of approval, “you’ve done well, my boy. You best clean yourself before you return to your tent.”

Come morning, Benjamin would find the words 'my boy' echoing around his skull like a prayer. For the time being, did not even have the energy to consider the more urgent problem of how he would look Washington in the eye come morning. With a final surge of effort, he drew himself to his full height and saluted, before shuffling back over to the tub.

The water was far too cold to be pleasant, but it was cool against the sting of his backside. He sat in the tub for half hour or more, trying to scrub the tear stains from his cheeks and the fire from his bones.


End file.
